Scar Mates

PENSIEVE AMERE

Deep darkness opens, stretching without end,

Our memories guide us like a lighthouse tower,

Then disappear beneath a bloodsoaked shower,

Only your memory glows in me, dear friend.

---- Charles Baudelaire

March had been a disquieting month for Snape. He had kept a watchful eye on Quirrell and the forbidden forest, but had not discovered any further excursions. He had either succeeded in frightening the man off, or had driven him to find a way new way to escape detection. Dumbledore had been skeptical of his suspicions that the boy had somehow followed him into the forest after the match, and the events of the past several weeks were making him doubt his initial intuition. Continuing to monitor the boy, Snape had come to the conclusion that, in addition to their own disturbing connection, the boy's scar now pained him at wholly unrelated times. He had observed the boy wince and rub at it at times when he himself was shielded and the boy was not even aware of his presence.

On a more personally distressing note, in the past month he had started to once again feel a resurgence of the burning of his own Dark Mark. He finally conceded to the Headmaster that this may have been what he had felt that night in the forest. He still believed, in his heart, that the boy had been there there, but had to admit there might be another explanation, given what they were now both experiencing.

He had asked the Headmaster about it. "So, the pain in his scar has another source besides myself?"

"Yes," he answered, rather absent-mindedly. "I believe so." He was obviously distracted.

"And is it a coincidence that this is happening to him just as my Dark Mark is rekindled after months of inactivity?" Snape asked, irritated that the man was not more forthcoming.

His words and ill-concealed irritation seemed to rouse the old man. "Oh dear no, Severus. It's not coincidence. Far from it. I believe coincidence gets far too much credit for things that are, in reality, related. The notion of coincidence can do a great deal of damage when it postpones seeing the truth of things." He eyed Snape speculatively, who returned at first a puzzled look, which then settled into one of cynical knowing.

"Albus," he growled in warning. "I know you have your little timetable when it comes to doling out information to me. But as I am uniquely bound up in this, I'd appreciate if you could be a little more candid, instead of trying to distract me with the pitfalls of overestimating coincidence. I'm trying to protect the boy, remember? I don't think it's a coincidence either, but I'll be damned if I have a clue as to what it does mean." He had been about to say more, but clamped his mouth shut at the look on Dumbledore's face. It was the look of ingratiating tolerance that a parent puts on as he listens to an immature child protesting what he perceives as mistreatment.

Deciding not to provide further fuel for that look, he told him, "You've told me before that you would tell me. About the boy," he said flatly.

The blue eyes softened. "And I plan to, Severus. But things must be taken in order, not because I wish to deprive you of the knowledge, but because there are some things that I do not yet know. I have my suspicions, but that is all at this point. I wish it were otherwise, for your sake. I don't believe it will be long before they are confirmed, but that must take place before I reveal the full truth about Harry." He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "That is the best I can do on that matter. But I sense events coming to a critical juncture, so perhaps you will not have long to wait."

Snape found there was nothing he could object to in this. The old man's timing was usually spot on. But Dumbledore was not finished. "However, there is some groundwork that must be laid, and since you've brought the matter to my attention, let's not leave it to the last minute, shall we?" Snape looked at him warily and waited. "There is the matter of that Pensieve memory that we have not yet visited, the events surrounding the Potters' deaths." The old man regarded him soberly. "I have not forgotten about it, Severus. On the contrary, I believe now more than ever, that it's something that we must examine together."

He looked with sympathy at Snape, who could not hide his chagrin at finally having to relive the memory. "Severus," Dumbledore spoke to him gently. "There is no information in that memory that we require to change Lily's binding spell. We will leave that to Nicolas." He paused, then continued softly. "We need the memory, Severus, so that you will be prepared to receive the truth about Harry and," he held the man's eyes for a moment before finishing, "the role you must play if he is to survive. I will say no more. You must trust me now as you always have."

If he is to survive?

He had tried, he truly had, to heed the Headmaster's advice to resist the urge to speculate. But it went against his very nature to ignore the implications of Dumbledore's statement. If he is to survive. He struggled with what it could possibly mean. He'd laid the problem out on paper, listing the facts, the suppositions, and the suspicions. He even pulled out the old journals he'd kept during the dark years, and took a closer look at Lucius Malfoy's reluctant admission that Voldemort might have been dabbling with immortality. But he found nothing of substance. All of the facts that he considered supported no particular conclusions, but taken in total were enough to make him decidedly uneasy.

By the time the first Saturday in April arrived, Snape was anxiously anticipating the evening. Unlike the earlier Pensieve visits, the Headmaster would learn nothing new here. Not that he had felt in any way violated by the old man's knowledge of his past with Lily, but this time he himself would be the primary beneficiary of what they would witness. He trusted implicitly the Headmaster's explanation that it was needed so that he could finally understand the truth about the boy. He sensed it was all about to come together--Lily's binding spell, the painful scars, Quirrell, the Stone, and the boy. It was a confluence of some sort, and he intended to be ready.

***

He had been unusually quiet at dinner in the Great Hall that night, and catching the Headmaster's quizzical look, had just shaken his head in reply. He was preoccupied, not only with what they were about to do that night, but also with the yearly crush of last minute NEWT students who desperately needed his help "Now, Professor". Not that he gave in to this kind of emotional blackmail, but he did try to be available to anyone whom he considered even remotely sincere. He did not take many NEWT level students, and if they had made it this far with him, then he considered most of them worth salvaging, although he did give them a blistering earful about waiting to the last minute, and reminded them that last ditch efforts were usually futile.

He waited to walk down to the dungeons with the Headmaster. The old man walked with his arm in Snape's, a gesture of support that was not lost on the Potions Master. They both knew that while the other memories might have produced in him some melancholy, this one had the potential to devastate, albeit temporarily. They had both been players in that night so long ago, and each was aware of the involvement of the other to a certain extent. But they had never spoken of it after the fact, and Snape had certainly not shared the emotional impact of the night, as he knew that Dumbledore had not been aware of his relationship with Lily. He knew now that the old man had harbored suspicions. It was strangely comforting to know that at last the memory was going to be sifted and considered by someone who could appreciate the sheer agony he had experienced during those two most difficult days. He himself, he knew, would also see it differently, now that he understood that the power of the binding spell had colored his perceptions and emotions of the night, at least where the boy was concerned. The power of the memory of losing Lily, however starkly his own, was not in the least manufactured or diminished by what she had done.

They dispensed with the introductory chitchat that had preceded the other Pensieve expeditions, and moved right to the task at hand. This was not the time to dissect or discuss, they both sensed, and so without preamble, they moved to the bowl for the last time. Snape could not look at the Headmaster, could not see the compassion in the old man's eyes, could not afford to indulge in anything that might deter him from plunging in. He was determined to do what was necessary now, so that what Lily had done would not be in vain. The Headmaster's words rang in his ears. If he is to survive. He had pledged that he would do all in his power to make it so. Lifting his wand over the Pensieve, he felt the old man's hand cover his own as he stirred. Yielding to the sensation of spiraling downward, he closed his eyes and thought, For Lily.

***

They found themselves standing at the edge of the group of men who had just Apparated here, Severus among them. There were six of them, all robed in Death Eater garments, sans masks, as they expected to encounter no living witnesses.

The moon was full, illuminating the tiny cottage nestled in the little valley. Far off, they could see a few twinkling lights from the village of Godric's Hollow, where most of the inhabitants were already asleep. They approached the house cautiously, forming a single file as they walked through the trellis at the gate leading into the yard. Severus hung to the rear and was just about to step into the yard when a soundless green light flashed from the windows of the first floor of the house. The men froze in their tracks for a moment before moving on. Severus remained by the trellis, fixed in place by the sounds coming from within the cottage.

"We were to Apparate in three groups. First Voldemort came with the two he had chosen. Almost immediately after, the six of us from the Inner Circle were summoned. The last were to be those he had chosen to be witnesses to his triumph. We were all to share in the celebration of their deaths.

They watched as the Inner Circle fanned out in the yard around the doorway to the cottage.

"My warning to you, Albus, was in vain. They were taken completely unawares, like sheep to the slaughter, and I was powerless to stop it." His voice was flat, emotionless, almost detached as he added, "At this point, any intervention on my part would have been meaningless, and they would not have hesitated to torture me for any information I might have been able to give them. They would not have known how little that would be, but they would have tried nonetheless."

Dumbledore said to him, "They were betrayed by their Secret-Keeper, Severus. There was nothing you could have done, and throwing your life away would have been foolish."

They watched as the men in the yard waited, listening to the crescendo of the woman's screams which now seemed to come from the upper floor of the cottage. Severus still stood by the trellis, holding onto it as if it were supporting his weight. His face was twisted in agony as he struggled to contain the shaking of his body. At the height of a high-pitched scream, the second flash of green light came from the upper windows. In the silence that ensued, the Inner Circle took a few steps forward, while Severus hung his head, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

"I shudder to think what might have happened had I been required to explain my emotional state. Fortunately for me, I was spared that experience.

The door to the cottage opened suddenly as two masked Death Eaters emerged, dragging a body between them. One of them kicked it down the stoop steps where it came to lay in a heap. "I give you James Potter, gentlemen," said the taller of the two men. He spat on the still form, drawing a chorus of cheers from the men gathered around him.

"Lucius Malfoy." Snape said. "It isn't surprising that he was one of the two. But the other---I always assumed he was their Secret-Keeper." He frowned as he studied the scene. "But Albus, look at the man." He narrowed his eyes at the other masked Death Eater standing beside Malfoy. "I didn't know it at the time, that Black was their Secret-Keeper, although I thought he might be. But this man," he paused, still considering. "I don't think this is Black. He's altogether too small, don't you think?"

The Headmaster had been alarmed the moment the two men had exited the house. "No," he murmured, "it definitely isn't Black. It's not just his size, either. It's the way he carries himself. This is someone else."

They watched as the men took turns prodding and kicking at the dead wizard. Severus had composed himself, watching with glazed eyes, staying where he was. Suddenly, without warning, a third flash of green light blazed from the upper windows, but this time with ear-splitting sound. It was an almost deafening thunderclap that blew out every window in the house, which itself seemed to lurch suddenly before settling back in on itself. There was a low, grinding sound as the roof on the right end of the cottage buckled and fell in, while the outside wall beneath it crumbled, and fell into the yard.

The Death Eaters, having jumped clear, stood in stunned silence, the abuse of James Potter's corpse now forgotten. There was no fire, just a billow of dust as the structure finally ceased shifting, and for a moment no one moved or spoke. Severus had fallen to his knees at the first shockwave of sound, now oblivious to the blood trickling down his temple where a glass shard had struck him.

The tall masked Death Eater was the first to move, kicking the twisted door out of his way to plunge back into the house. They could hear him kicking and cursing his way through the wreckage inside. Then there was silence.

"Watch this sequence of events carefully, Albus. The fall of the house of cards. Had he had any true supporters, the fall of Voldemort would not have been so completely the end of it all. But evidently, he had never planned for the need of a successor."

There were shouts of alarm and dismay from the house. In answer, several of the men in the yard rushed forward to enter, then could be heard clambering their way through the debris. Severus, however, had sat back on his haunches, his arms limp at his sides as he gazed numbly at the ruins. Tears had mingled with the dust and blood on his face, but he seemed beyond caring, still trying to process the reality of what must have lain within the cottage.

There was more shouting as the men made their way back out of the house, the last of them a now de-masked Lucius Malfoy, pale in the moonlight and noticeably shaken. One of the men who had not gone into the cottage called out. "Malfoy, what is it? What the bloody hell happened?"

He held up his hand to silence the murmuring group. His voice shook as he said, "The Potters are dead....and it appears," he paused, trying to control his tremulous voice, "that the Dark Lord is also. I do not know how this has happened. But the five of us have examined...what remains, and there is nothing that we can do." He looked at those in the group who had remained out in the yard when the others had entered. "If you wish to see for yourself..." He gestured toward the door. These few shook their heads mutely. Severus, who had managed to stand to his feet, did not respond at all. As the men started to shift nervously, muttering among themselves, the only remaining Death Eater to be masked slipped without notice back into the cottage. No one noticed his absence when Malfoy once again commanded silence. "We cannot stay here any longer. I suggest we return to the meeting point to examine our options."

"But Malfoy, what about those waiting to be summoned?" asked one of the men.

He looked at the man in disgust as he answered. "Take a look at your arm, Goyle. There will be no further summonings."

One by one, in a matter of seconds, they all Disapparated from the yard, until only Severus remained.

"I was not witness to it, of course, but I heard afterward that once the word spread that he was dead, there was no orderly discussion of 'options'. Most fled in panic to their homes or to hiding places, knowing that the full wrath of the Ministry would now be unchecked."

They watched as Severus seemed to gradually become aware that he was now alone. Wand out, he paced slowly along the length of the cottage front, surveying the damage at the far end critically. Walking slowly back toward the door, he appeared to be about to enter when he stopped, as though remembering something. He turned, then stooped down on one knee beside the still warm body of James Potter. His eyes were unreadable as he took in the battered face. Shaking his head, he leaned over to gently close the staring eyes, then brushed some dirt and leaves from the man's face. When he finally stood and turned back to the cottage, he found himself face to face with the still-masked Death Eater who had arrived with Voldemort and Malfoy. The man stood there shaking, a wand in each hand, as Severus muttered, "You!" He lunged suddenly for the man, but was unable to stun him before he Disapparated from the spot.

"It was not Black. I'm sure of it now. I still don't know who he was. Most likely he was an intermediary who relayed information from Black to Voldemort." Both men were quiet as they considered this. The old man looked puzzled as he continued, "Black maintained his innocence to the very day they shut the door on him in Azkaban." He sighed, then lamented, "The loss of so many fine young people in such a short time, the best of a generation."

Snape reminded him softly. "My generation, Albus."

"Yes it was, Severus," the old man conceded. "You were my one consolation in this....and Harry."

They followed Severus into the cottage and up the partially collapsed stairway, as he made his way through the wreckage. Moonlight was streaming in through the gaping hole where the roof had been, making it unnecessary for him to cast a Lumos to find his way. He stopped suddenly in the hallway before them, stepping carefully over the mound of black robes. They now contained only dust where the body of Voldemort had once filled them.

Snape could not suppress a shudder. He prepared the Headmaster. "I knew what I was about to find, and perhaps I should have left it to you, but I had to see it. Something compelled me to come up here and see her for myself, to accept that she and the boy were truly gone." He paused to reflect. "Considering the binding spell, I suppose that part of the compulsion was the fact that the boy was still alive, even though I did not know it. Albus...." He faltered. "This will not be easy for either of us to watch."

The Headmaster nodded grimly. "I know, Severus, and if you would like to stop...."

"No," Snape growled. "We'll finish it. Even now, in the damned Pensieve, I can feel the power of the amulet drawing me on. No, we go on."

They stepped into what was left of the boy's room, stopping just behind Severus, who seemed rooted to the spot. With a heart wrenching cry, he sprang to the corner, hurling debris behind him as he dug frantically to pull her out. On his knees now, he gently cleared away the last of it, then gathered her lifeless body into his arms, keening loudly has he crushed her body to his chest. Suddenly he could make no sound, but rocked her wildly, her arms dangling uselessly with the motion. When his breath returned to him, he continued to rock her, more gently now, wailing softly into her hair. "Lily....oh Lily. Oh God....Lily....I'm so sorry. Oh Lily....Lily." The wails gradually became moans that still called her name. Long strands of her hair were now plastered to his face, mixed with the tears and dust and blood there.

They watched for several moments as Severus played out his grief. Then he held her quietly, his hand smoothing her hair as he continued to moan her name every now and then. He laid her back on his arm so that he could see her face. After stroking her cheek softly, he closed the beautiful green eyes for the last time and bent to kiss her forehead. His lips were still on her skin when a sound startled him. It was so faint that he was not sure he'd actually heard it. He sat frozen with her still in his arms as he listened for it again.

Snape startled the Headmaster, who was deeply moved by the scene. "I realized that I'd delayed too long, that someone might be coming to investigate, whether from the village, or the Ministry, or even the Death Eaters. It never occurred to me that the boy was still alive."

The old man was still lost in the picture before him. "Rather reminiscent of the Pieta, don't you think, Severus?"

Snape's face softened has he caught the reference. "Yes, I suppose it is."

This time the sound was a little louder, coming from behind him in the room. Frowning, Severus gently lay her down, taking special care with her head. Swiveling on his heels, he eyes widened in amazement as he saw the tiny form curled underneath the half-crushed crib. "Oh Merlin, the boy," Severus breathed out as he scrambled toward him. Flattening himself on the floor, he reached in and caught the child by the robes, then gently pulled him out from under the crib. When he was clear, he pulled the unresisting child to his chest and held him tightly, murmuring soothing words as his own eyes filled with tears. "Oh by all the Gods that be, you're alive...." He stroked the child's back as his mind tried to process what had happened. The boy did not cry or try to pull away as this stranger held and caressed him. The wound on his forehead was a bright angry red, but strangely bloodless. When Severus finally pulled him away from his chest to examine him, he noticed the scar with a gasp. "Oh Merlin....he did try to kill you. But....he didn't...." His confusion was apparent as he studied the child. He reached out and gingerly touched the wound with a fingertip. The child shrieked in pain when he did, so he pulled him quickly back into his chest to comfort him.

"I realized right then that I had to get him away, that something had gone horribly wrong with Voldemort's plan. And that if this were so, then the boy was still in danger. I also took care that he did not see his mother."

Standing shakily to his feet, he turned so that he faced the tragic figure laid out on the floor. He reached a hand inside his robes and withdrew the loosely wrapped portkey. Balancing the child against him with one arm, he flipped the covering back, preparing it to press it to the child's tiny hand with his own. Pausing just before he did so, he took one last look at his beloved on the floor. "I swear, Lily, by all the love I have for you, I will keep him safe."

When the portkey was activated, the men in the Pensieve had the sensation of the lights being turned off, then suddenly back on. They were in the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore jumped to his feet when Severus staggered into his desk, clutching the child in both arms now. "Severus!" he cried out in alarm, then brought both hands down to the desk with full force, as the impact of what he was seeing hit him with full force. "The Potters," he said heavily, the knowledge already written on his face.

"They're dead, Professor," he gasped, leaning against the desk, the boy suddenly heavy in his grasp. The adrenalin that had sustained him over the past hour was deserting him, and his knees seemed ready to buckle. The old man was around the desk in an instant and made to take the child from him before he fell. But the boy shrieked in protest and buried himself against Severus' chest. Withdrawing his hands, Dumbledore took in this reaction, then pulled a chair over just as the young man felt the last of his strength give out. Sinking back into the chair, Severus stroked the child's back to calm him, while the tears he had for the most part held back, now flowed freely.

"I couldn't do anything to stop it, sir. I told you this was going to happen. I knew it would happen. And then...there was no time to warn you again..." He was choking on the tears now. The boy, catching the panic in his voice, pulled back to look at him, then wrapped both arms around his neck and held on tightly, one pudgy hand patting him on the shoulder, as if to comfort him.

The Headmaster seemed almost incapacitated by the news just given him. He too was fighting back tears as he watched the image before him.

"I was struck by how the boy had attached himself to you, and by the end of the next day, how he preferred you to the exclusion of all others. I attributed it, at the time, to the fact that you had been his rescuer, but now we know that the power of what Lily had set in motion was called forth the moment both she and James were dead."

Incapacitated no longer, Dumbledore took the situation quickly in hand. "Severus, what of Voldemort? How is it that the Potters are dead, but you escaped with Harry?" His tone was urgent, knowing that expediency was required.

"The Dark Lord is dead, Professor. James was killed first, then Lily, in the house. Then with the third Killing Curse, something happened. The house nearly imploded." He stopped, unable to continue, his voice choked with anguish.

"Go on. Quickly, Severus. I need to know this now," he commanded.

The distraught man nodded. "Malfoy came out and told us, and some went back in with him to see for themselves. I...didn't go...not then. They came back out, and then...they were all afraid, and left," he finished.

"They just left?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Without killing the boy?" He sounded incredulous.

"I believe Voldemort tried, sir. When I finally went in...after they'd all gone... I found Lily. I think the child was unconscious....under the crib. I don't know if they even looked for him...maybe they didn't think it was important."

The Headmaster straightened suddenly, and gave a small, grim chuckle. "The fool didn't tell them....who the target really was." Severus looked at him, confused.

Snape turned to Dumbledore. "Albus," he warned, "this has gone on long enough. You knew that the boy was the target?"

"We're not having this conversation right now, Severus. I believe I've already made myself clear."

Snape eyed him warily before replying. "Of course, Albus. It's only been ten bloody years that you've kept it from me." Dumbledore ignored the sarcasm as they turned back to watch.

"But sir, I believe he did try to kill him. Look." He shifted slightly so that the Headmaster could see the boy's face. "Look at his forehead."

The old man bent down to see, then drew in a sharp breath. "A curse scar," he whispered in wonder. He reached out his hand to touch it, then stopped. "Did you touch it, Severus?"

The young man nodded. "He screamed. It was all I could do to hold on to him.

Dumbledore nodded in return, still peering at the child. "It's a curse scar then. And there's only one curse he would have wanted to use on the child. And yet..." He stopped in mid-sentence, stroking his beard while he thought. "Somehow the casting of the Avada Kedavra killed him, but only marked the boy. How very interesting. Not entirely unexpected, considering..." He stopped, as if he just realized he was speaking aloud.

He was suddenly all business. Moving to the hearth, he threw a handful of floo powder and said clearly, "Hagrid, I need you here at once." Stepping back into the room, he startled Severus by placing both hands on either side of the man's chair as he faced him. "Severus, things are going to have to proceed very rapidly from this point on. I am going to have to tell a very few number of people of your involvement in this, and it's unavoidable. I don't know what the repercussions of all this are going to be, especially for his followers. But I need to set some things in motion now to protect the boy. They may yet come after him, they may not. I don't know. But I very much need your help for awhile longer." He paused to judge the young man's reaction. When Severus gave him a curt nod, he assured him. "You are the perfect choice, as no one will have reason to believe that you would be protecting the boy. And if the need arises, I have no reservations that you could do whatever is necessary."

His words stirred something in the young man, who met his gaze steadily, then replied with a surprising firmness. "I understand perfectly, sir, and no harm will come to him unless it has first been done to me."

Dumbledore smiled at this, his face softening. "Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, Severus. And besides, it looks like he's quite content with you." They both looked down to see that the child had laid his head on the young man's shoulder and was now fast asleep.

Dumbledore produced a brandy for the two of them, which Severus accepted gratefully. The old man leaned back against his desk, took a sip, then said in a sober tone, "There is one other thing that needs to be said, Severus. After I alert the Ministry to what has happened, I expect things to move very quickly, especially if his followers decide not to resist." He paused, then said with regret in his voice, "It is most likely that, given your position within his ranks, you will be one of the first to be taken in. You could flee, of course, but I don't advise it. I will stand up for you, you know that, but there will more than likely be some publicity, or even a trial. You will need to take precautions to protect yourself, Severus, especially while in custody. Even in defeat, they will be motivated to punish someone who has betrayed them from such a position as yours. Are you prepared?" he asked.

Severus had paled a little, but feeling the weight of the child on his chest, felt his resolve strengthen. "Yes, Professor. I am."